


A Charmed Life

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Gen, Private Investigators, Revenge, Sexual Assault, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: After a traumatic incident, Pansy vowed to fight back. Ginny was all too happy to help.Sometimes, the predator becomes the prey.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23
Collections: Charms: 2020 Round Two





	A Charmed Life

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2020Round2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2020Round2) collection. 



> Disclaimer: 
> 
> The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The theme for this round of the competition was Charms and my chosen pairing was Pansy/Ginny. Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

* * *

_ “Hey there, beautiful.” _

_ The woman looked up at the smiling stranger apprehensively. “Hello.” She hated it when men approached her in pubs.  _

_ “Are you here by yourself?” _

_ “Not for long,” she replied. “I’m meeting a friend.” _

_ “I’ll keep you company in the meantime. Let me buy you a drink.” He sat down beside her in the booth without being asked, pressing in close. _

_ “Thanks, but I have one already,” she gestured towards the glass by her hand. Subtly, she tried to shift her body away from him slightly, to maintain some space between them.  _

_ “Come on,” he cajoled. “I’m being nice here, the least you could do is accept.” His sharp blue eyes bored into hers. She wanted to look away, to search for help, but was afraid to do so, lest he take offense. She didn’t want to provoke him. _

_ “Um. Well. Okay, thank you. That would be nice.”  _

_ “Good,” he smiled at her, but she noticed the gesture never went further than the curve of his lips. Standing, he sauntered over to the bar. She saw him reach into his pocket and draw something out, palming it quickly. _

_ Seeing her chance, she grabbed her handbag, slid out from the booth and made her way towards the exit, hugging the far side of the room and watching him out of the corner of her eye. Reaching the door, she pulled it open and stepped out into the street, her low heels tapping out a harsh staccato against the concrete as she hurried away. It was getting dark, and there weren’t many people about. She had almost reached the corner when she was grabbed from behind and spun around roughly. The man from the pub was there, his face dark with anger. _

_ “Bitch,” he snarled. “Who do you think you are? I buy a drink for you, and you thank me by bailing as soon as my back is turned. That’s incredibly rude and ungrateful.” _

_ “I—I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “You were making me uncomfortable.” _

_ “Then why didn’t you ask me to leave?” he demanded. “I know why. You’re just a cocktease, like all the others.” He shook her as he spoke, his eyes like flecks of ice. _

_ “You insisted,” she feebly tried to argue. Her mind had gone blank with fear. She didn’t know what to do. Scream for help? But her throat had locked up. Try to break free? But she felt frozen. _

_ “You owe me now,” the man said, his voice low and dangerous. _

_ “I’ll pay you back for the drink,” she said. “Just tell me what it cost, and I’ll—” she tried to fumble in her handbag for her purse, but he grabbed her free hand in a vice-like grip. _

_ “Oh no,” he said with a predatory grin. “You can find another way to repay me.” He released one of her arms, turned, and started to walk, forcefully pulling her along. _

_ Finally, her paralysis broke. She began to struggle and scream. “Someone help, please! I don’t know this man and he’s trying to abduct me!” _

_ “Shut up,” he growled, but he didn’t let go. She began to fight harder, striking at his head with her free hand as she continued to cry for help. _

_ “Oi! What’s goin’ on over there?” A man who had just emerged from a takeaway shop with a paper bag in his hand headed in their direction. _

_ “Please help me! I don’t know this man and he’s trying to hurt me!” she pleaded desperately. _

_ “You better let go of her, mate,” the second man warned, pulling out his mobile and beginning to dial. _

_ “Ahh, you’re not worth it anyway, you ugly slut,” her assailant snarled. He shoved her roughly away from him and stalked off down the street without looking back. _

_ “You alright, love?” the second man asked with concern. “Want me to call someone for you?” _

_ “No—no, thank you. I think I’ll just go into the takeaway shop and call a cab.” The fare home would cripple her, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk to the tube, even though it was only a few minutes away. Close to tears, she hurried towards the comforting warmth of the shop, taking out her mobile as she did so. _

Ginny and Pansy looked at each other, then back at the quietly sobbing woman sitting before them.

“Thank you for coming to us, Amelia,” Pansy said softly. “It’s incredibly brave of you to share your story. Many women are afraid to talk about their experiences.”

“I—I just don’t want him to hurt anyone else. If that man hadn’t come out of the takeaway when he did—” she broke down into fresh sobs, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Ginny said. “We just need a good description of him.”

Amelia looked up. “He was tall, about six foot. Strong. Blue eyes, dark hair—” she froze suddenly, her face going slack. After a few moments, light came back into her eyes and she shuddered. “—Sorry. A goose just walked over my grave. What was I saying?”

“You were just describing the man to us,” Pansy prompted. “Six feet tall, strong, with blue eyes and dark hair. Any distinguishing features?”

Amelia thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not that I can recall.”

Ginny handed Amelia a card. “Well, that’s all we need. We’ll let you know if we have any news. Please call us if you think of anything else.” The header read,  _ A Charmed Life: Parkinson & Weasley, Private Detectives and Investigators.  _ Beneath, in smaller script, were the words,  _ Women helping women - you are safe with us. _

“Thank you,” Amelia whispered. “Thank you so much. I’ve been having nightmares ever since. I can’t sleep. He didn’t even  _ do _ anything, and I feel so  _ helpless—!”  _ Her voice took on a desperate edge.

“Take this,” Pansy said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bag containing a dark, crumbly substance. “It’s our own blend of herbal tea. It’ll help you relax and get some much-needed rest. The instructions are on the label. You must follow them exactly, it’s very strong and too much will make you sluggish.”

“You’re so kind,” Amelia said, her eyes filling with tears once again as she reached for the packet and stood. Ginny stood also, subtly whispering a calming charm as she moved to embrace her.

When they drew apart, Amelia had a small smile on her face and a little bit of colour had returned to her previously pallid cheeks. “I think I feel better already,” she said. “Even if you  _ don’t _ find him, I’m grateful to you both.”

“Oh, we’ll find him, Ginny replied confidently. “We  _ always _ find them.”

Amelia gave a small nod. “Goodbye.” She gathered her things and left the office.

When her footsteps had died away down the hallway, Pansy turned to Ginny. “Did you see him?”

“Of course I did,” Ginny answered with a smirk. “And you’ll be very interested in this one.” Drawing her wand, she placed it to her temple, withdrawing a long, silvery string. Pansy summoned the Pensieve from its cupboard and Ginny dropped the memory into it. 

“Let’s take a look, then.” Pansy dipped her face in the water, emerging a short time later. She frowned. “This is the one we've had other reports about.”

“Told you it was interesting,” Ginny answered. “Now we just need to find him. And given his track record, we need to make him our priority. Let’s review the information from the other three women.”

Pansy nodded and retrieved the other memories. It was time to get to work.  
  


* * *

**_  
Two years ago_ **

_ Ginny looked up at the sound of a familiar voice - grating, loud and obnoxious. Glancing across the heads of the crowd, she recognised Pansy Parkinson and wondered what the snooty pureblood witch was doing in a muggle pub. She was talking to a man. He passed her a drink and slung an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to him.  _

_ “Hey, isn’t that Parkinson?” Susan Bones asked. _

_ “None other,” Ginny replied. _

_ “Wonder what made her stoop to slumming it with muggles,” Susan wondered aloud. _

_ “Who knows,” Ginny shrugged.  _

_ A couple of hours later, the two witches left the pub, parting ways at the entrance. Looking forward to getting home, Ginny almost missed the soft whimper as she passed the entrance to a back alley. _

_ Pausing, she backed up a step and peered into the gloom, but couldn’t see anything. “Is someone there?” she called out cautiously. No one answered, and she was about to dismiss it as her imagination and carry on when the sound came again. A stifled sob, and a scrape of movement on concrete. _

_ Squaring her shoulders, Ginny stepped into the alley, sliding her hand into her pocket to grasp her wand. It was far too dark to see, so she took the risk and illuminated her path with a whispered  _ **_Lumos_ ** _.  _

_ A huddled mass was slumped against a wall a few steps from her, trying to move. Ginny gasped and hurried forward, training her light on the figure, then froze in shock. “...Parkinson? Is that you?” _

_ “Who’s that?” Pansy croaked, holding her hand up to shield her eyes. _

_ “Weasley—Ginny Weasley,” she replied as she cast her eyes over the Slytherin witch. Her dress was hiked up around her waist and there was a pool of vomit beside her. “Who did this to you?” Ginny waved her wand, casting a diagnostic spell. There were no broken bones, but Pansy was bruised and battered, and it was clear she had been raped. _

_ “I can’t remember,” Pansy whispered. “I was in that pub and talking to some guy… and then I was here, and someone was fucking me, and hitting me. I—” her voice cracked with emotion. “I hit my head on something, and I guess I was knocked out. Where am I, Weasley?” _

_ “You’re in an alley, not far from the pub,” Ginny explained. “You need water. Here.” She cast an  _ **_Aguamenti_ ** _ , and Pansy gulped at the stream as it flowed into her mouth.  _

_ The liquid revived her slightly, and she began to shudder. “I want to go home,” she sobbed. _

_ “You should report this to the muggle police,” Ginny stated, but Pansy shook her head vehemently.  _

_ “I don’t want to have anything to do with muggles, police or otherwise. I just want to go home and wash the feeling of filth off me.” She hiccuped and swiped at her face, wiping away the tears and mucus. _

_ “Is anyone else there?” Ginny asked. _

_ Pansy shook her head. “Just me. I live alone.” _

_ “Well then, you’re not going home,” Ginny insisted. “You’ll come to my flat and stay with me.” _

_ “I’ll be fine, Weasley,” Pansy grumbled, trying to get up. She slid back down with a wince and a groan. _

_ “Yeah, nope,” Ginny said. Grabbing Pansy by the arm, she Apparated them both away from the alley with a soft pop.  
  
_

* * *

_  
  
At first, Pansy had been hysterical. Then she was ashamed. Finally, after she had cried and raged for what felt like an age, she wanted justice for the violation she had suffered.  _

_ “But not through conventional means,” she vowed. “I’ll find him and make sure he can never do—that—to another woman, ever again.” _

_ Ginny, who knew more about the muggle world than Pansy, had explained the odious practice of drugging someone’s drink in order to render them helpless, so that the offender could sexually assault or otherwise take advantage of them. Pansy had been enraged. _

_ “Muggles truly are disgusting creatures!” she declared. Although the practice wasn’t unheard of in the wizarding world, it was far less common. _

_ Ginny retrieved the memory of the man she had seen that night so the other witch could properly identify him. When Pansy declared her intention to hunt him down and make him accountable herself, Ginny was quick to volunteer her help. She was part Prewett, after all, and there was no way she was going to allow such a grievous insult to go unanswered, even if the person insulted was Pansy Parkinson. _

_ The two women spent a great deal of time planning how they might find him again, and what they would do when they did. Pansy was all for using  _ **_Crucio_ ** _ , but Ginny disagreed.  _

_ “We’re pushing it as it is, going after a muggle. If we use Unforgivables on him, we’ll both end up in Azkaban, no matter how much the scumbag deserves it.” _

_ Pansy sighed noisily, sounding greatly put out. “Fine. What do you suggest?” _

_ Ginny thought for a moment. “What about creating a few spells of our own? Ones we can use to punish him without using an Unforgivable? I was always pretty good at charms. Were you?” _

_ “I was good at everything, Weasley,” Pansy sniffed. She considered Ginny’s words for a few minutes. Slowly, a grin appeared on her face. “I like your idea. We’ll find new ways of dealing with that swine.” _

_ Two weeks later, they found him. He was in the same pub, and had his arm around a young woman who appeared to be a little worse for wear. He nuzzled into her neck and she lolled against him. Pansy and Ginny watched as the man stood and guided the woman towards the exit, then followed. _

_ The man led the woman along the street and into the alley. Casting a silencing charm, the two witches entered after him. The moon cast a weak light, allowing them to see him press her up against the wall and begin fumbling under her dress, planting wet kisses on her neck. Pansy stifled a sob as her half-remembered experience came rushing back to her. Thankfully, the silencing charm prevented him from hearing. Ginny squeezed her companion’s hand and they stepped forward. _

_ “Hey, you.” _

_ The man turned, saw them, and grinned ferally. “Oh, hey. Two more beautiful ladies. Come, join the party.” He didn’t seem to recognise Pansy. _

_ “I don’t think so,” Pansy replied coldly. “Get away from her.” _

_ “Piss off,” said the man scornfully. _

_ Pansy flicked her wand, throwing the man back against the opposite wall and binding him. “What the fuck…?” he cried out in surprise. The woman he had brought into the alley started to slump, barely conscious. Ginny darted forward to catch her and lowered her gently to the ground, casting a warming charm. _

_ Meanwhile, Pansy had her wand trained on the man. “Weasley, check his mind, will you?” she urged. _

_ Ginny stepped forward, staring the now frightened man in the eyes. “ _ **_Legilimens.”_ **

_ After a few minutes, she withdrew, leaving him shuddering and whimpering from the invasion. Few knew that Harry had not been the only one to gain some of Tom Riddle’s powers before he was defeated. Ginny had absorbed some of the dark wizard’s skills when his diary possessed her in second year. As a result, she found Legilimency came easily to her, and with a bit of practice, quickly became accomplished. _

_ “It’s definitely him,” Ginny confirmed. “He thought he could get away with it.” _

_ “Well, then. The punishment is appropriate,” Pansy said. She stepped forward and tore the man's shirt open with a jerk, scattering buttons. Next, she lifted the hem of her skirt and withdrew a small knife from a scabbard strapped to her thigh.  _

_ The man’s eyes grew wide and he began to struggle. “I’m sorry!” he moaned. “I won’t do it again, just let me go!” _

_ “We will… eventually,” Pansy smirked. Turning to the knife in her hand, she whispered, “Secare.”  _

_ The implement rose into the air, blade gleaming in the faint moonlight. Ginny cast another silencing charm as it began to cut. _

_ Afterwards, they revived the woman he’d targeted, explaining only that they had come across the scene and driven him off. The woman, grateful, said, “You two should start a detective agency to catch shitheads like him.”  _

_ Pansy and Ginny both loved the woman’s idea, and established A Charmed Life not long after. They gained business almost entirely through word of mouth. Together, they tracked down dozens of predatory men and convinced them to change their ways, using the custom charms they created as well as more common ones. Several, however, had been irredeemable and were done away with entirely.  _ _   
  
_

* * *

**_  
Present day_ **

After almost a month of searching, they found Amelia’s attacker. He frequented several pubs, targeting women selectively from each at random to avoid being recognised. They were ready to make their move.

Ginny went into the pub he was in and sat in a booth, appearing not to notice him. The man spent some time watching her before approaching. She allowed him to buy her a drink, and with well-practiced skill, pretended to be affected by the ketamine he slipped into her drink. Of course, she had already taken a potion to negate the effects.

“I feel funny,” Ginny slurred, slumping against him.

“Well, let’s get you some fresh air,” he replied, lifting her to her feet.

“‘Kay,” Ginny hummed, allowing him to escort her outside.

She could sense Pansy behind her, following silently at a distance as he led her down the street. They reached a seedy motel. He guided her inside and headed for the lift. Ginny, keeping up appearances, leaned against him and giggled.

“Whas’ your name, ‘gain?” she asked.

“Peter,” he replied.

“Peeeter,” Ginny echoed. “Where we goin’?”

“My room.” The lift doors slid open and he ushered Ginny out into the hallway. She allowed him to lead her, listening for the sound of the door to the stairwell opening. Distracted and fumbling for his key, Peter didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. 

He unlocked the door, pulled Ginny inside, then shut and latched it. He pressed her up against the wall, fumbling at her coat buttons. After divesting it, he took her by the arms and started maneuvering her towards the bed.

He didn’t hear the soft _click_ of the latch as Pansy unlocked it with an **_Alohamora_** _,_ or notice her footsteps behind him. Suddenly Ginny came awake and shoved Peter backwards, where Pansy caught him. 

“...What?” Peter said, confused.

“Hi there,” Pansy purred in his ear.

“Peter, meet my good friend Pansy.” 

“But you’re—”

“—Drugged? Nope. I was faking.” 

“You like drugging and raping women, don’t you, Peter?” Pansy asked, digging her nails into his arms.

“You can’t prove anything!”

“Not anything the courts would understand, no,” Ginny acknowledged. "But we have other ways.  **_Legilimens_ ** _.” _

She withdrew after several long minutes and grimaced while Peter shuddered, then cast a projector charm. It was one she’d invented based on the muggle device. It allowed her to share her memories with Pansy directly, without the need for a Pensieve. She sent what she’d retrieved from Peter’s mind to the screen that had appeared on the wall.

It turned out Peter was quite the connoisseur. He had been targeting women for several years, moving from place to place so as not to get caught. He was violent, sadistic even. He  _ enjoyed _ hurting them.

“Oh, he has to go. This one’s irredeemable,” Pansy said with disgust.

Peter, meanwhile, had been watching his crimes play out before him with a sick kind of wonder on his face. “Captivating,” he breathed. Turning to them, he asked, “What are you?”

“Can’t you tell? We’re witches.” Ginny cancelled the charm and flicked her wand, divesting him of his clothing.

“Witches, eh?” Peter didn’t seem perturbed by her confession as he glanced down at his nakedness, then up with a lascivious grin. “Want to play, do you?” 

“We do,” Pansy smirked. “But not in the way you think.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him onto the bed. Then she cast a silencing charm, drew the dagger she had used so many times before, and whispered the charm. Peter’s grin faded and he began to scream as the dagger turned its blade against his flesh.

At length, her work was done. Peter lay, sobbing, in a pool of blood, piss and shit. The words  _ I drug, rape and beat women  _ were carved across his torso in deep slashes.

Ginny stalked over to him. “You’re Evil. Repulsive,” she said. “That prick of yours is diseased, just like your mind. And what do you do with something that is diseased?” She stared at Peter, waiting for an answer.

“I—I don’t know. I’m sorry! Please let me go!” he begged. It was quite pathetic.

“If something is diseased, you cut it off,” Pansy added.

Ginny pointed her wand at his cock. Peter’s alarm was palpable. “No! No, don’t—”

_ “ _ **_Diffindo_ ** _.” _

His high pitched keening was like music. Ginny and Pansy smiled. Another case closed, another predator off the streets. They were truly living a charmed life.


End file.
